Current mood: SHAMBLOIC
Category: SHAMBLOIC Music
So after more court appearances and jail dodging, than new (and now 3 times) Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi,
Pistol Pete Doherty has finally landed himself back in the nick for what is said to be a 14 week stretch..
Now, to anyone who's followed his trials of life this is no surprise, in fact, perhaps the only strange thing about this most recent incarceration, is that it almost happenned under the radar of the popular press..
Yes boss, since Amy 'drink the' Winehouse has become Britains favourite junky fuck up, Pistol Pete has almost slipped from public view other than when he's popped around to see Winehouse....
So, as to not forget the poor scallywag as he slums, here we go with an old piece about the time I saw Mr Doherty and Babyshambles perform..
December 5th 2006
I'm awake all night, and I'm in a very strange mood indeed..
Why?
2 reasons:
Firstly:
The England Cricket team are in the process of snatching an incredible defeat from the jaws of certain victory in the 2nd Ashes Test Match against Australia.
At 9am tomorrow I'm due to watch Babyshambles record I Love You, But You're Green for BBC 2s The Culture Show and for a reason I can't quite understand I feel badly bothered about this…
So why am I bothered by Babyshambles and Mr Pete???
I drink tea and tea and MORE FUCKING TEA, reverse my gambling positions, try and put the circket out of my mind and think…
I soon figure that a part of it, is that I'm annoyed by the musical genius myth of Doherty and that by going to see him and gawp, I'm pandering to a made up, style over content, star obsessed celebrity cult of Junky Pete - a cult (one of the few) I don't believe in.
Yes boss, it's Doherty's lifestyle, drug habits and girlfriend, rather than his music and electric performance genius skill that's made him a big and well repeated household name.
Neither The Libertines or Babyshambles have made trebble platinum, or sold out Wembley on the back of their name alone. They haven't had 6 consecutive number ones or had a ten year career loaded with classics we all know and love and I'd be more than willing to bet that if you stopped 10 people in the street and asked them to sing a Pete Doherty song, at least 9 would struggle to pull it off - even though 99 out of a hundred would know who he is…
This being the case, why should I - an eminently unknown musical music critic, trying to make a big fat shitty name for myself, be wasting time on someone who's yet to touch me - or for that matter - most of the population in any real and musical way?
Am I already becoming another sad old star fucker journo, going along with the dull indie tide just because it's there??
Another theory I have, is that I'm battling some kind of a moral position...
Yes boss, perhaps, deep down, I know I'm going to see a freak show - to see a man on his way to the modern equivalent of the cross - a creative human sacrifice - and there I'm gonna be in my fake beard shouting "STONE HIM!!"??
But if I really gave a shit about that sort of thing, why on earth am I involved in any kind of entertainment or creative business whirl?
Shit, it only takes the briefest of glances behind the scenes of any creative enterprise, to see that the whole game's corrupt, voyueristic and canibalistic by it's very nature. Creative art feeds on misery and destruction as art always must, and no matter how many old morals suggest I should, I certainly shouldn't be disagreeing with this state of affairs - if only because there's no point disagreeing with the inevitable..
Not convinced by either of the above, I start to think about Kate Moss, or Katherine as I prefer to call her...
AH HA!
Maybe I'm annoyed because, like many idiot boys, I've had a part time crush on Moss for years, and the one and only time I've seen her in the flesh, and been in any position to do anything about it, was in the pub about 3 weeks before her and Pete's relationship appeared to start, and then because I was clad in an outfit equivalent to that worn by Vince and Jules after The Fox has hosed the remains of Marvin from them, in the film Pulp Fiction, I didn't dare approach her, she didn't return my gormless stares and then she was gone....
Perhaps I dislike and fear the idea of Pete because he's fucking the most desiredly famous woman in the country and I'm not??
Well, all of these and various other ideas come and go, and as I listen to the worst sporting capitulation my goldfish memory can recall, I know that though all ideas have validity, none really add up to the full trick.
I therefore put such thoughts aside, make it in to the venue for the recording, watch and wait to be impressed.
The strange thing is that from the word go, I'm very impressed with both Pete and Babyshambles.
Contrary to the myths of lateness and bad behaviour, the band arrive on time, or perhaps a bit early. They walk onto the stage as if they'd just popped out for a packet of fags and the audience were paintings on the wall.
Without fucking about, they then get on with playing their music as if it's the most natural thing in the world. There's no pretentious concern about the sound check, any discernable ego or nasty attitude to be seen. They simply play like they want to play, and like playing is their life. It's fluid and smooth and a pleasure to watch, meanwhile Pete the hooligan bad boy junky shit head motherfucker behaves like a charming, quiet and pleasant young man.
Yes boss, from begining to end, I thoroughly enjoy the performance and here it is.... (complete with my audience big bald head and green cardy in the middle and bowing at the end...)
It's very much later that evening, or perhaps even the next, that I work out the true nature of my problem…
I'd been nervous because I was to be in the presence of someone who'd done what so many seek to do when they take on London or Hollywood or New York or any other seething modern day metropolis.
Pete Doherty has started a creative project (2 in fact), seen them succeed to some notable degree, swum in the celebrity lake of filth that's followed and nearly killed himself in the process…
I was jealous…
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